


Greetings from Erdrea

by WanderingCreep



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Dancing, Fishing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingCreep/pseuds/WanderingCreep
Summary: or, short stories and sidequests.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	1. hands

**Author's Note:**

> The boys go fishing.

Laguna di Gondolia is beautiful, a network of ponds and lakes and streams watched over by trees and rock formations. Eleven has never seen anything like it. as the group traversed the slippery docks and paths, eleven found himself watching the water and scenery around him more than he was for any monsters that might be lurking. The sun was a few hours away from setting when Sylvando spoke up from the back of the group.

  
“We should probably be getting ready to call it a night, darlings. The sun won’t last forever.”

  
The nearest campsite was near a small pond where one of the wooden paths exited off into. the site needed a little cleaning up, but the group had been travelling together long enough that getting it into shape didn’t take very long. Eleven wandered over to the pond and peered down below the surface.

  
“Eleven,” called Veroncia, “it’s your turn to make dinner, remember?”

  
“There’s fish in this pond,” said Eleven. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go fishing for once.”

  
“Good idea, but I’m not exactly the fishing pole type,” said Erik. “I’d prefer to use my hands.”

  
“Absolutely not!” shrilled Veronica. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a Rainbough to get to! This is no time to go swimming.”

  
“Why not?” said Erik, already untying the sash around his waist. “We’ve earned a break. Besides, wasn’t it you who wanted to wander all over Gallopolis a while ago, Miss Moody No-Fun?”

  
Veronica stomped her foot and glared at her own nickname being parroted back at her. “Fine! But don’t expect me to help.”

  
Erik grinned. “Right then. You in, Eleven?”

  
“I’ve…never fished with my hands before,” he admitted, shrugging out of his duster, but Erik waved him off.

  
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll show you,” and slipped his tunic over his head. Unbeknownst to him, Eleven was watching, just a little too intently, as he struggled slightly in getting out of his shirt, eying his lithe torso and slender build, the slope of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin-

  
When he felt eyes on him, Eleven quickly turned his head and found Sylvando watching him knowingly, a smug grin on his face.

Eleven shot him a look.

  
Sylvando said nothing.

  
“Alright!” said Erik, finally free from his tunic. He leaned down to unlace his shoes and shimmied out of his leggings, which Eleven pointedly did not watch, opting to peel out of his own shirt and trousers instead.

  
Erik had already jumped off the short dock and into the water by the time Eleven was finished, and reappeared near the middle of the pond, water dripping from his hair.  
“You coming?” he called back to shore.

  
“At least fold your clothes up,” Serena scolded softly, plucking their discarded garments off the grass.

  
“Just leave them, Serena,” said Veronica. “If they get dirty and wet, it serves those two dunderheads right.”

  
In the water, Erik set to work explaining the finer points of catching a fish with your bare hands. Eleven heard Veronica mutter something about it being barbaric back on shore, but paid her no mind.

  
“You have to be very still,” said Erik, “just like you would on land, or else you’ll scare the fish away. And you have to watch.”

  
Eleven watched as Erik went very still, blue eyes trained on the water, and mimicked him, trying to focus on the water as well instead of spacing out or inevitably watching the water droplets slips down Erik’s collarbone-

  
Erik moved then, a jerking motion that startled Eleven out of his thoughts – hadn’t he been trying to avoid spacing out? – and held something up from under the water. In his hands, thrashing wildly, was a small silver fish, eyes bulbous and mouth wide. Erik flashed him a grin.

  
“There. Simple as that,” he said. “This one’s a little on the scrawny side though, so we’ll let it go.”

  
He tossed the fish back into the water where it disappeared under the shimmering blue surface. “Now you try.”

  
Eleven nodded, determination setting his features. He watched his hands under the water, watched the fish get closer and closer as he settled into complete stillness. A large silvery one was brave enough to get close, so close that Eleven could feel its smooth scales sliding across his fingertips. He grabbed at it, missing by a fin, and watched it swim away.

  
“You’ve got to be fast,” said Erik. “Faster than the fish. That was a good try though.”

  
Eleven nodded and resumed his watch, trying again and again. He swore it was the same fish over and over again, testing its luck to see how close it could come to being someone’s dinner, the same silvery devil that slipped out of his grasp each time. Its luck was about to run out, Eleven thought, going still once more. Again, the fish came close enough for Eleven to feel the ripples in the water from its movements.

  
Now!

  
Eleven grabbed hold, just as the fish slipped across his fingers, and yanked, bursting out of the water in the same motion. The fish thrashed about as he struggled to get a good hold on it above the water and he grinned as Erik gave him a bright kilowatt smile at his catch.

  
“Nice job! And it’s a big one!”

He waved at the girls and Sylvando back on the shore. “We got one! Dinner’s on us tonight!”

  
Getting the fish back to shore was an adventure. Thankfully, the floor of the pond wasn’t too deep and treading water to get back to land was fairly easy without using your hands. A flick of one of Erik’s knives took care of the fish and then came the dirty work. Neither one of them minded, still dripping and in their underwear, hands wrist deep in fish guts. Veronica complained about how disgusting they were. Eleven grinned. Erik flicked some of the guts at her and she squawked, stomping off someplace else.

  
When they’d cleaned the fish out, they put it over the fire and let it roast, sitting back on their hands as close to the fire as they dared to get dry.

  
“How did you learn how to catch fish with your hands?” asked Eleven.

  
“You learn a lot when you have to survive on the street,” was all Erik said.

  
Instantly, Eleven’s interest is piqued.

  
Erik hardly ever spoke about himself and when he did, it was in short sentences and was always shrouded in mystery. There was hardly anything that Eleven actually knew for certain about Erik other than the fact that he didn’t like talking about himself very much. He knew the basic facts about him, like that he didn’t come to trust people very easily (he was still unsure how he had come to adjust to Eleven in such a short time) and that he mostly operated in sarcasm and being blunt to the point of almost being rude, but not much else. Serena was an open book, Veronica and Sylvando less so, so Eleven was kind of used to the secrecy and constant ‘not-knowing-ness’ that followed him and his friends around. But with Erik it was different. He wanted to know more – not that he didn’t want to learn about each of his friends, but Erik was the most intriguing, if he was being honest with himself.

  
Eleven is fascinated with Erik, that’s just a given. And not like in a creepy way where he wants to observe every little thing he does with a magnifying glass like he’s some sort of lab specimen. No, it’s more like awe that he feels; the kind that keeps him wanting to learn more about his companion. They’ve only been travelling together for a month or so now, so it’s a little early to be telling Erik any of this – not that Eleven ever would, not in a million years – but he’s already so…in awe of him. From the leap of faith they took to escape Heliodor – “Do you trust me?” Erik had asked, and somehow, despite only having met him a few hours ago, Eleven could honestly, somehow say he did with complete certainty – to the time they were spending on the road to Cobblestone and the Manglegrove, each of them slowly adjusting to the other, Eleven was finding more and more reasons to be enthralled with Erik as a person.

  
He knew that Erik was smart, smarter than he let on, having saved both their hides more than once while on the road and on the run. He knew that he didn’t talk about himself at all, not even while he was getting to know Eleven (to be fair, Eleven hardly talked about himself either, hardly talked at all), but sometimes he let things slip, like the fact that he liked the stew Eleven for their meals once they’d settled down at a campsite for the night.

  
“Where’d you get that scar from?” asks Erik, startling Eleven out of his thoughts.

  
“Huh?”

  
“That scar on your back,” said Erik, gesturing at his entire being. “I saw it earlier. Looks pretty wicked.”

  
He says the words slowly, like he’s scared he might be overstepping his bounds by asking something so personal, which is both Erik-like and completely not-Erik-like at the same time.

  
“Oh,” says Eleven. “I fell out of a tree once when I was a kid. The branches scrapped me up pretty badly.”

  
Eleven sees an opportunity and hesitantly takes it. “What about you? Any scars with stories?”

  
Erik shrugs, offers up his hand, palm facing upward for Eleven to see, and for the first time, Eleven notices that the gloves he usually wears are gone. His hands are rough beneath the gloves, covered in white nicks and scars. There’s a particularly long one across his palm that Eleven notices.

  
“What’s this one from?” he asks tentatively. Erik had started the whole thing, but Eleven still felt as though he might overstep his bounds into something too personal and close Erik off from him.

  
“Accident with a knife from when I was younger,” says Erik. “I was still learning how to use daggers and slipped up. Not a very interesting story.”

  
“Neither was mine,” said Eleven.

  
Erik shrugs again. “We’ll probably earn a lot of interesting ones before this journey is up.”

  
Eleven nods and doesn’t know how to tell Erik that he’d risk a hundred scars just to continue this adventure with him.

  
“I’m…glad you decided to stick around,” he says instead.

  
Erik gives him a lopsided grin. “Where else was I gonna go?”

  
There’s another thing that Eleven has yet to learn about Erik; where is he even from? How long has he been travelling around? Did he have a home to go back to?

  
Erik nudges him with his shoulder. “You alright? You’re thinking pretty hard over there.”

  
“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  
It really is bittersweet. Erik has no idea how happy that makes Eleven to hear that and has no idea how awful it feels to hear him say that as just a friend.

  
“Hey,” says Erik, “Veronica bought some of those fancy spices from Gallopolis; think she’ll mind if we use ‘em on the fish?”

  
A smile breaks out on Eleven’s face; Erik knows good and well that no one was allowed to touch the spices except for Veronica and that neither one of them was that well versed in using spices anyway; they’d probably ruin it. But he smiles and nods.

  
For now, he’ll just have to be happy with what he has.


	2. sabrecubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardly anything surprises Erik, until it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is actually based off of someone's Dragon Quest themed bullet journal spread that I saw on twitter. There was a little doodle of our favorite rogue playing with some sabrecubs, so I thought I'd write about it.

sabrecubs

There are few times when Erik really finds himself surprised. He’s a cynical person by way of the world’s shitty treatment and has seen enough that he’s no stranger to very much in the world. But since he met Eleven, things have been turning themselves on their heads left and right, the biggest surprise being how in the seven hells he’d managed to find himself travelling the world with the fabled Luminary, on the run from one of the greatest kingdoms in the realm. Like, how was he supposed to be prepared to wake up one morning and be greeted with a kid from the country who also happened to be a legendary hero reincarnated? There was nothing that could have prepared him for that little shocker.

But still as they travel together, he finds more and more little surprises that the world hasn’t thrown at him yet, like Derk going straight and the fall of Cobblestone. He’s surprised at himself mostly, because he’s never been the most amicable people person, so he’s not quite sure how he managed to wrangle a friendship out of Eleven, much less discover that he had – _ugh_ – _feelings_ for him. He’s never had to deal with that before, so he does what he always does when he comes across something he doesn’t know how to handle: put up the walls of sarcasm and repress those thoughts until he forgets that they’re there. Honestly, he’s not quite sure why Eleven continues to travel with him. At worst his constant ability to not trust anyone and deflect with a sarcastic comment is borderline insufferable, but who knows; maybe he’s into that.

Which shouldn’t matter to Erik in the slightest because he does _not_ care what Eleven is into.

Ugh, that sounded harsh.

Anyway.

Erik is no stranger to monsters either; he’s got his dagger for a reason, and he’s long since learned that not all monsters have fangs and fur. Some of them look like him and Eleven. He knows that most of the animal monsters that they encounter on their journey have only one thing on the brain: kill. Some kill for sport, others for food. Either way, running into one guarantees you’re in for a bad time if you aren’t prepared to face them down.

He has no idea what’s going on with him today. His head is in the clouds or something, because he can’t quite focus on the fight in front of him, which is a fatal mistake. They’d run across a group of monsters, which includes but is not limited to, some bewitched tree stumps (seriously, what the hell?) and some sabrecubs who are pretty much watching from the sidelines while the two of them combat the evil stumps. It’s kind of hard to deal some serious damage to a _tree_with a just a dagger, but Erik is somehow managing. To his right, Eleven is hacking away with his sword, and in a particularly vicious move, stabs the stump through the top – it’s head? – with a resounding _shnk_ sound. The stump jolts and then goes slack, disappearing into purple miasma. Erik’s tree stump is a stubborn one and refuses to back down, so Erik switches tactics. Eleven catches his eye and nods, rushing in with a feint as the tree swats its long wooden arms at him, while Erik summons a little magic to his dagger and rips the blade up the back of the stump while Eleven has it occupied.

The decoy works, and the stump poofs into purple smoke. Erik frowns, because, really, did they honestly have trouble defeating a haunted tree stump?

“That was…weird,” says Eleven. “I’ve never seen angry trees before.”

Erik is about to agree when there’s a rustle of leaves and grass, and suddenly Eleven is shouting, and just as Erik turns around, something barrels into his chest and knocks him to the ground.

Of course; the sabrecubs. He’d completely forgotten they were there; stupid mistake.

He gets the dagger up to stab at the one still on him, but suddenly becomes preoccupied when the sabrecub doesn’t start trying to bite his face. Instead it’s…licking?

Another one knocks into the arm holding the dagger, sends the weapon skittering over the grass as his arm suddenly becomes full of another cub. He can feel another one climbing up his legs, little claws digging into the fabric. The fourth is gently gnawing on his left wrist.

He hears Eleven’s footfalls coming closer, and then one of the cubs – the one licking at his face – is being pulled off of him.

“Are you okay?” says Eleven frantically from above.

Erik sits up, swatting at the cub climbing up his legs and reclaiming his wrist from the other one.

“I’m alright,” he says, catching his breath, because he’d be lying if he wasn’t a little spooked, “Goddess. What the hell?”

“I forgot they were even here,” says Eleven, placing the cub in his arms on the ground, where it immediately butts its head into Erik’s ribs.

“They’re not acting like other monsters,” observes Erik, in the process of pushing the one nudging him in the ribs away.

“Well, yeah,” says Eleven, like it’s obvious, “They’re cubs. They probably thought we were playing with those monsters and wanted to join in.”

“What?”

That’s absurd. Monsters don’t play with humans. Right?

But here they are, chasing their tails and jumping all over Erik’s lap and trying to climb up Eleven’s legs, and decidedly not tearing into the two of them with their fangs, which are long even for baby animals.

“What do we do with them?”

Eleven hums, looking thoughtfully at the little cub gnawing on the toe of his boot.

“Do you even have it in your heart to kill them? I mean,” he says softly, “they aren’t hurting anyone.”

Erik lifts his arm, where one of the cubs -probably the one from before – is hanging by his wrist, growling softly.

“Doesn’t mean they won’t.”

Eleven frowns, and boy, does that suck.

Erik sighs – since obviously Eleven isn’t going to do anything about them - and takes the cub by the scruff of its neck, dislodging it from his wrist and setting it on the ground. When he gets to his feet, the cubs gather round as if they’re waiting on him to play with them – they probably are – eyes wide and tails twitching. Erik picks up his dagger from where it lay in the grass and looks from it to the cubs, raising it. The light catches the blade and the cubs get excited all over again, mewing and falling all over each other. Erik takes a deep breath and…and…

Damn it all.

Erik rolls his eyes and sheaths the dagger, and even from here, he can feel Eleven relax the tension in his body.

“I guess you’re right,” he grumbles. “They’re not hurting anyone.”

Eleven smiles at him, but its short-lived when they hear the sound of twigs snapping behind them. They whirl around, and Erik feels his stomach drop. Slinking through the shadows of the trees behind them is a sabrecat, eyes glowing and body low to the ground like it might pounce. Goddess, this day was cursed wasn’t it?

But the cubs race forward, darting between their legs and barreling into the sabrecat, who licks each one in turn and then glares at Erik and Eleven, who glare back, waiting for someone strike during their standoff.

Without taking her eyes off of either of them, the sabrecat relents, and herds her brood deeper into the trees, the cubs mewing growing softer and softer as they disappear into the foliage. Erik and Eleven watch until they can’t see the fiery red of their manes anymore and then Eleven breathes out a relieved sigh.

“Goddess,” he says running a hand through his hair, “that could have gone badly.”

“You’re telling me,” says Erik. “Think we made the right choice?”

“_I_ wasn’t going to kill them. Didn’t look like you were either.”

He shrugs, smiles again, says, “It was…cute,” and Erik can’t decide if that’s a blush coloring Eleven’s cheeks or if it’s just a trick of the light.

He reaches up and brushes the apparent grass out of Erik’s hair, and Erik goes deathly rigid at the contact.

“There,” says Eleven, once he’s satisfied with his work. “We should probably get out of here. She might come back.”

He turns to go, and Erik snaps back to his senses, mentally shaking himself. The walls go back up – when had he let them down? – and he resigns himself to following Eleven’s retreating form and fighting down the heat rising in his chest.

“Right.”


	3. a little town, a dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finds a little town and decides to take a short break.

a little town, a dance

It’s when Erik thinks he might actually stab someone that he realizes it’s time for a break.

They’ve been travelling for days with the only stops being to sleep at a campsite before getting up the next morning and forging ahead again. During that time, Erik has cleaned his daggers no less than eight times, to the point where the rag is nearly useless and the blades shine like sunlight against the light of the campfire. And he really does like the stew Eleven makes, but if he has to eat it one more time, he’s going to vomit. He knows he really can’t afford to be picky, but Goddess, he’s going to crazy if they don’t spice things up soon.

So he’s thankful when they come across this teeny tiny little market village near Octagonia that’s just bursting with color and noise, despite how small it is. It’s not even on the map.

“Welcome to Calembria!” says someone the moment they set foot in the village. There are banners and pennants hanging overhead, lining the streets, and flowers in the window boxes and on people’s heads and wrists. Against the blue sky, it’s really quaint and kind of beautiful. Cheerful music is being played from the tiny market square and people are dancing with each other in the streets, clapping and twirling.

“Must be a festival,” muses Erik.

“Ooh, we simply must join in,” says Serena, turning to her friends expectantly. Sylvando, of course, completely takes her up on the offer.

“Way ahead of you, honey,” and somehow, he’s already got a flower crown on his head. “Let’s dance!” And just like that, the two of them have flounced off into the crowd of dancers, arm in arm.

A blonde girl skips up to them from the dancing crowd and tugs on Eleven’s hands, guiding him into the square where the other dancers are gathered. Someone else runs up and places a flower crown on Erik’s head and one on Veronica’s and then darts off, leaving the two of them standing awkwardly in the square.

“Well?”

Erik glances down and Veronica is staring up at him, hands on her hips.

“Well what?”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you going to invite me to dance?”

She glares at Erik long enough for him to know that she’s serious. “I’ve got two left feet,” he says.

Veronica scoffs. “Liar. You’re a thief! You have to be good on your feet.”

“I can’t even reach you,” says Erik. “Unless you want to stand on my toes.”

Veronica gives him a look that packs enough venom in it to kill small animals. “Fine! I’ll just find someone else to dance with.”

“Sure,” sighs Erik, “find a nice six-year-old to dance with.” Thankfully, Veronica doesn’t hear that last little quip, and Erik is finally alone to watch the festivities around him. He catches sight of Eleven and the blonde girl dancing; he twirls her, and she gives him a smile bright as the sun, which he returns with slightly less power, looking a little sheepish. Erik finds himself smiling too; even when dancing with a pretty girl, Eleven still finds time to be shy.

Erik wanders off, heading down a flight of cobblestone stairs and deeper into the village. Dancing was never his thing, and it’s kind of nice to finally be by himself after weeks of having little to no privacy.

He stops at a little curio shop, where the shopkeep tries to sell him a trinket for someone he loves. Erik can’t even begin to wrap his head around that one, but ends up buying something just to appease the friendly store owner. Most of the shops are closed for the apparent festival, not that there are many shops to begin with what with the village being so little. Still, Erik wanders up and down the narrow streets, content on getting as lost as he can and enjoying his time to himself. No matter where he ends up, he can always just barely hear the sound of the festival music tinkling in between the buildings and streets. Somehow, he makes his way around the village and back to the square where everyone is still dancing (a very festive village, aren’t they?)

Erik stands at the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to see over people’s heads, and tries to locate his friends. Someone grabs his arm, falling into his side, startling him to death before he realizes that it’s only Eleven, a bright smile on his face, hair a little windswept and cheeks rosy.

“Having fun, were you?” says Erik, easing into a grin.

“As were you, I bet; I lost sight of you,” said Eleven, brushing his hair away from his face. He looked back at the crowd. “I haven’t danced in ages. Not since…”

The smile on his face waned a little, and Erik knew he was thinking of Cobblestone, of the girl he used to dance with – he’d heard him mention her name once: Gemma.

“You’ll have to show me some of the dances,” says Erik. He surprises himself; he hadn’t been lying to Veronica when he said he had two left feet. Dancing wasn’t really his forte, and here he was offering to dance with Eleven.

But it’s worth it for the beaming smile that Eleven gives him. “I’d like that.”

They have enough money to stay at an inn for the night and Erik could cry. Not that he isn’t used to sleeping on the ground and other vaguely horizontal places, but he’s learned that on the road, a bed is a small and simple pleasure that you just don’t pass up. There’s a small bar on the bottom floor and a band by the grand fireplace playing something rich and lively. It was like the village was in a permanent state of smiles and life; and somehow, at least for today, so are Erik’s companions. Serena gets asked to dance almost immediately after they settle down in the bar with drinks. Sylvando, of course, cheers the whole thing on.

“Did you ever find someone to dance with?” Erik asks Veronica as they sit at their table. She glares sidelong at him.

“No, because everyone was worried they’d step on me! And I refuse to dance with a child.”

Erik hides his smile behind his drink and watches the rest of his friends dance. Eleven gets roped into a dance again with a stranger – this time, a brunette – and they dance until the song is over. When a new song starts up, Serena finds her way to him, politely waving off the other potential dancing partners, and a new dance begins. The two of them are dancing a different dance though: same tempo, different moves. The other couples stop to watch, and Erik wonders if he’s watching them dance a Cobblestone-native dance.

The dance requires a lot of stomping and changing direction on the turn of a dime, but it’s a lively dance, full of jumping and skipping and despite being initially very wary of it, Erik finds himself tapping his feet and clapping along to spur Eleven and Serena on. They’ve got the whole place in on it, all the patrons clapping and cheering to this Cobblestone dance. Eleven takes Serena around a final time and twirls her just as the band finishes the song. The entire inn goes up in laughter and whistles, and the pair of them come over to their friends, winded and pink about the cheeks.

“That was fabulous, darlings,” gushes Sylvando. “Eleven, I didn’t know you could dance like that!”

Erik takes a sip of his drink and leans back on the table, content to watch Eleven blush his way through the praise of their friends. The band has started to play something slower, something that meanders and lulls, meant to carry the patrons off to sleep as the energy of the room calmed down.

“Erik-“

At the sound of his name, Erik looked up, meeting eyes with Eleven, who appeared to be offering his hand.

Erik looked from the hand to Eleven, then to his hand again. Eleven smiles, takes it in stride. “I want to dance with you.”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t tired from all that with Serena?”

“This one is slower.”

Erik eyes his hand again, then hesitantly takes it, hauling himself up to his feet. He’s kind of expecting a waltz, like the one he’s seen in the ballrooms of Heliodor and that almost makes him back out, but Eleven drops his hand and bows lightly. Erik, already flustered, sketches a quick one as well. Eleven smiles, breathing a short laugh, and then murmurs, “just follow my lead.”

They circle each other slowly, eyes locked on one another, changing direction just as Erik gets comfortable with the first. Once that rotation is complete, Eleven takes a step in close, which, after nearly stepping away from him, Erik mirrors, then steps back out. The circling starts up again, Eleven bringing his hand up to Erik’s. They don’t lock fingers, just press their palms together, circling in the small space that the gathered crowd has given them. Even without the closeness that a traditional waltz would have given them, the dance is oddly intimate and soothing. Strangely enough, once Erik gets comfortable with it, he finds its kind of enjoyable.

The song feels like its over as quickly as it started. Eleven lowers his hand and dips into a bow again, and Erik nearly scrambles to mimic him. The crowd around them clap and cheer, and Erik breathes out slowly, face a little flushed.

“Oh, but you’ll dance with Eleven and not me, huh?” comes Veronica’s voice suddenly. Erik sighs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually listening to the Hateno Village theme from The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild when I wrote Erik and Eleven's dance scene, so just imagine that's the song the band is playing.  
I'm taking prompts as well! Leave me some ideas for things you'd like to read!

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm open to requests as well, so send them my way!


End file.
